


we might be hollow but we're brave

by fliptomybside



Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7708687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fliptomybside/pseuds/fliptomybside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it turns out, taking a break really means breaking up, grasping at straws, and letting everything float to the surface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we might be hollow but we're brave

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I started thinking about this months and months ago, and it's still unfinished, because Things Happened and I'm unmotivated on my best days. Let's just say I have a weakness where anxious Niall is concerned and leave it at that, okay? Thank you forever to [Lynn](http://thesoftwarmground.tumblr.com) who listened to me talk about this more than I actually wrote it. MAYBE SOMEDAY I'LL FINISH IT. Anyway, unbeta-ed so all mistakes are mine, title from Lorde's 400 Lux, please don't let the real people that this is about see it, etc. etc.

Everything looks fuzzy in the dark, Niall thinks. He keeps his head turned away from the faint glow of his alarm clock. He doesn’t need to look at it to know that it’s still early, just like he doesn’t need to pull back the curtains to know it’s still overcast outside, because London in April is never anything else. 

The sheets are smooth against his skin, and his knee twinges when he stretches, a constant reminder that he should probably ask his physical therapist for a referral for a doctor in LA. He has everything else sorted, but some things are easy to forget about right up until they make his life miserable again. 

Niall flops over to look at the alarm clock. 4:00 AM, it reads, plenty of time to stay in bed for at least another half an hour before he has to drag himself to the airport to catch his flight. He’s still not sure if LA is the right choice. California always felt like another planet, worlds away from London, but Niall doesn’t feel settled here, either. He thought London would feel like home, but staying still makes him feel restless. It’s not relaxing like he thought it would be. He likes running the studio with Brez, but as it turns out, Niall’s shit at managing that kind of thing, doesn’t like being cooped up inside day after day, not after all those years of moving from one place to the next.

Going to LA could be good for them, anyway. He has some vague plans to maybe scope out some space on the west coast, expand things. See if anyone’s up for a collaboration, help out someone trying to find their footing. Paying it forward, Niall thinks. He’s just not sure how to go about it.

His head won’t stop buzzing now that he’s awake, and all he wants is sleep. To hop back on a bus, even though it’s been a few years. He misses it all now that he doesn’t have it. The tiny bunks and entirely insufficient mattresses, the way Harry used to climb in after Niall had fallen asleep and plaster himself against Niall’s front. His life feels too big, too quiet in the aftermath. 

“A period of adjustment, that’s all you need, love,” his mam said on the phone last week. 

But it’s been months, and Niall still feels twitchy with the need to _move, move, move._ He doesn’t know how to stay still anymore, though, and he feels bad, knows he hasn’t seen his family much, and going to LA for a few months will only make it harder. But he’s not who he was when he left, and he’s not sure how to slot himself back into something that never felt like home in the first place. 

His alarm starts to go off, and Niall feels the sharp twist of nerves in his stomach. This is what he’s been waiting for. The problem is he doesn’t know what that is, or what comes next. It’s only for a few months, at least. Not forever. 

-

LA hasn’t changed in the few months that Niall’s been away. It’s suffocating in its own way, different from London, but still a constant presence, reminding him how easy it is to feel acutely alone in a city of millions. He inhales deep and squints against the sun, cursing himself for leaving his sunglasses on the plane, and tugs his baseball cap down. Leaving LAX is always a madhouse, and it’s not something he thinks he’ll ever get used to. He gets recognized a fair bit, but still not nearly as much as Harry or Louis, and he’s grateful for it, especially as he scans the curb for his pick up. 

He slides his phone out of his back pocket to fire off a quick text to Louis.

‘paddy on time ? the eagle has landed , ha ha,’ he types out, and shifts his bag to stop it digging into his shoulder. The typing bubble doesn’t appear right away, and Niall knows Louis. He probably won’t get a response for several hours, and even then it’ll just be a cursory ‘sorry, mate!’ followed by some inane excuse. Having an infant son is probably a legitimate one, though. 

Niall’s startled out of his thoughts by the loud honk in front of him, and when he looks up, it’s Louis’ gray Range Rover and Paddy grinning maniacally at him from behind the wheel. Niall can’t help but grin back as he climbs in, the inside of the car cool against his skin. 

“Sure you don’t want to stop by and see Freddie first?” Paddy says once they’ve made their way out of the labyrinth of parking lot.

“Nah, ‘m about to pass out, to be honest. Y’won’t be able to get rid of me once I’m awake, though, don’t worry,” Niall says, and pushes down the twinge of guilt. It’s been months since he’s seen Freddie. Months since he’s seen any of them, actually, and he knows that the more time passes, the harder it’ll be to pull back together, but all he can think about is sleeping off the jet lag. 

The condos Paddy pulls up to bear a passing resemblance to the photos Niall’s assistant sent him, and he pulls Paddy into a hug before stumbling out of the car, bags in hand, and then he’s alone, clear across the world, and he’s so tired that he’s ready to lay down right on the sidewalk. 

He resists, though, fingers the keys in the pocket of his sweats and makes his way inside. It smells strange. Sterile, almost, like a doctor’s office, and Niall feels the curl of unease in his stomach, like maybe this is a mistake, flying blind clear across the country. He made this choice, though, he reminds himself as he makes his way up the stairs, unlocks his door, and drops his bag with a thud. He winces, hopes his downstairs neighbors aren’t home. First impressions are important, and he wants to live lightly.

The condo came semi-furnished, and it’s severe and modern and doesn’t feel like a place Niall really wants to live. When he drags himself down the hall to the bedroom, there’s no mattress, and it takes everything in him not slide down the wall to the floor. He grits his teeth and drops his bags and makes his way back to the living room. The couch’ll do for now, is the last thing he thinks before falling face first into the cushions.

-

It’s dark and disorienting when Niall wakes up, and sleeping on his stomach on an uncomfortable, unfamiliar couch has done unspeakable things to his neck. His sleep schedule is well and truly fucked, now. It’s 8:30 according to his phone, he has a missed call from Louis, and three from his mother, and the beginnings of a headache are starting to pulse at his temples. He groans and rolls over on the couch, tries to stretch all the kinks out of his neck. 

There’s no food, and Niall groans from his position on the couch, the sound echoing through the condo. He could call Louis back, and there’s a 20% chance he’d get an answer, and then he’d probably have to get Paddy to come back because he doesn’t have a car yet, and getting in and out of the place Louis’ renting in under an hour, especially when he’s got Freddie, is going to be nearly impossible. He doesn’t even know what Louis’ schedule looks like these days, isn’t sure when he has Freddie or what constitutes a good or bad time. Planning things is hard, as it turns out, and Niall mentally apologizes to all the managers and assistants that have had to herd him around the world for the past few years. 

His stomach rumbles, deafening in the quiet, but Niall can’t make himself move, just stares up at the ceiling and wills himself back to sleep.

-

It’s nearing noon by the time he wakes up again, back on his stomach and his neck so stiff he’s worried that he’s done permanent damage. There’s another missed call from his mother and a text from Louis that he ignores in favor of calling her back, finally.

She sounds like she's thousands of miles away, when she finally picks up, and Niall guesses that’s because she is.

“Finally,” she snaps in lieu of a greeting, and Niall pulls the phone back from his ear a bit. 

“Sorry, mam,” he says, clearing his throat. “Been sleeping off the jet lag since I landed."

He can’t see her, but he’s sure she’s rolling her eyes at him, puttering around the kitchen. He's surprised she's up at this hour, and realizes that she must've been waiting for his call. He tries to ignore the curl of guilt in his stomach.

"How's everyone, then? Brez said he'd check in on you while I'm gone," Niall starts, and pauses when he hears her sigh and the snick of a cabinet door closing. It's hard for him to even picture her kitchen, and he can't pinpoint the last time he saw her at home. 

"Be nice if you stayed for a bit, yeah? Other Nialls can't quite take your place, you know," she says, and her voice is soft and achingly familiar and Niall wishes for a split second that he were still on the other side of the world. Maybe LA was a mistake. LA was definitely a mistake, but he knows that he's lax when it comes to going to Ireland even when he's not halfway across the country.

"Having a bit of trouble staying still," Niall admits, and exhales heavy against the phone. He wonders if the rush of air sounds like the ocean to his mother just like it does to him. 

"I'm sure it's hard," she says, "can't imagine what it must be like to adjust, myself. Spent my whole life in one place, haven't I?"

Niall looks around at the empty living room. It's all white walls and modern furniture and it's sterile enough to be a doctor's office, and doesn't feel like his at all. He doesn't feel homesick much, a side effect of years spent in buses and lookalike hotel rooms, but he can't help but wonder if he'd still fit in his childhood bedroom at Bobby's, or if he's too far from who he was then for it to ever feel like home again.

"Gotta protect the motherland, haven't ya," he says, and when she laughs, it eases the guilt a bit, and Niall smiles in his empty living room.

"Been doing that since long before you left," she says, and he can hear her yawn through the phone.

"Get to bed, promise I won't go so long without phoning you," Niall says, stretching his legs out in front of him and wincing at the cracking of his knees. 

"Wasn't waiting up for you, anyway, just taking advantage of the quiet to straighten up," she says, typically prickly, but Niall can hear the relief in her voice, hasn't been away for so long that he doesn't recognize it.

"Love you," he says, voice breaking at the end. He half hopes that she'll call him out, half hopes that she'll let it go.

"Just let me know you're still alive every few days, all right?" she says, and her voice is soft and Niall promises himself that he'll do better, that he won't fall off the face of the earth.

"Won't," he says, and it takes a good fifteen seconds for him to realize that she's hung up or drifted off. He leans back against the couch and stares up at the ceiling. More clean white. It's not his style, really. Not that he's entirely sure what his style is these days.

His back pops when he gets up and stretches toward the ceiling. He should ask his physical therapist in London for a referral, he knows, or he could ask Harry, remembers all the problems he had with his back during the last tour. Neither option is too appealing, though, and Niall ambles in the direction of the kitchen, knowing full well that the refrigerator and cabinets are empty.

They are empty, of course. But there are glasses in one of the cabinets above the sink, and he grabs one and fills it with water from the tap. It tastes strange. He's not used to LA water, and he can feel it going all the way down, his stomach so empty it's verging on painful.

Niall contemplates getting changed before heading out in search of lunch, but even thinking about it uses up energy he doesn't have, so he digs a baseball cap out of his bag, puts on some sunglasses, and stumbles his way outside. 

The sun is blinding and it's hot, which he knew, because LA is always hot, but it's still disconcerting after the relative cool of London. 

The closest restaurant is McDonald's, naturally. It's Malibu, though, so the inside looks slick and upscale. The girl at the register looks at him funny but doesn't say anything, and Niall figures she probably recognizes him, dirty hoodie and all, but is enough used to seeing celebrities that she doesn't say anything that gives it away, just hands him his extra large coke and fries with a half smile.

The condo is still mostly empty when he gets back, not that he expected anything else. He wonders where he's supposed to find the energy or motivation to make it his when he doesn't even feel like buying a mattress.   
The couch is still verging on uncomfortable when Niall sits down, methodically eating his chips. Fries, his brain supplies helpfully. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and when he pries it out, still clutching the soda in one hand, it's Louis. 

_'Freddie's down for a nap if u want to stop by'_ reads the first message. It's followed by _'stop fucking up ur sleep schedule and come by. be a lad.'_

He misses Louis, and sitting alone eating McDonald's is everything he doesn't want to be, so he scrolls through his contacts until he gets to Louis' name. In typical Louis fashion, it rings through almost to voicemail, and Louis sounds rushed and out of breath when he finally answers. 

"Thought you were ignoring me for a bit there," he says, voice raspy with cigarettes and probably sleep. 

"Just tired," Niall says, methodically chewing a fry. "Can Paddy give me a lift? Haven't got a car sorted yet."

"Already on his way, mate. Gave him a shout when I saw your name pop up on me phone," Louis says. 

"Presumptuous," Niall laughs into the phone. "Might've been busy for all you know."

"Nah, I know you," Louis says, and Niall laughs again and lets himself revel in it for a second. It's grounding, being known by someone else, and it feels like coming back to life after being buried.

"See you in a minute," Louis says, and he hangs up before Niall has a chance to respond. 

-

Louis' rented place is a bit of a mess, which isn't surprising. Fatherhood hasn't changed him much, and his hotel rooms always looked like the aftermath of a tornado. 

"Freddie all right?" Niall asks, and a slow smile spreads across Louis' face. 

"Brilliant. Still feels mad, though. Can't believe I'm a dad," Louis says, and Niall nods automatically. It is mad. He can't imagine himself in Louis' position at all, knows that he's barely taking care of himself these days. A child would be more than he could handle.

"Bri doing all right, too?" Niall asks tentatively, but the grin doesn't fade from Louis' face, so he assumes he hasn't overstepped.

"Couldn't ask for anyone better, really. 'S tough, you know. But we're trying, yeah? Freddie's most important, think we both realize that, so. Could be a lot worse off."

Niall's stomach takes that as a cue to growl, the McDonalds from earlier clearly insufficient. Louis throws his head back and laughs, and Niall can feel his face reddening in response. 

"Sorry," he starts, "haven't got shit in yet, stopped at McDonald's before you called, but wasn't nearly enough." 

"Frozen pizza all right?" Louis asks, and Niall's nodding before he even finishes the word. 

"Never one to turn down free food, am I?" Niall says, and follows Louis into the kitchen, which is spotless, probably because Louis never cooks.

"D'ya even know how to turn on the oven, mate?" Niall says, and the glare Louis shoots him is withering and familiar and he can't help but laugh.

"All ovens are the same, aren't they? I'll figure it out," Louis says, head half in the freezer. He emerges with a slightly crumpled box in his hand a minute later, and spends a good five minutes pressing buttons on the oven before Niall takes pity on him. 

They fall into easy silence while they're waiting for the pizza to finish. Niall lets his mind drift, thinks about renting a car and going grocery shopping and eventually tackling the depressing state of his condo. 

It feels good to focus on mundane tasks. There's a novelty that he didn't expect, and he wonders if this is what it would've felt like if he'd gone to uni. Figuring things out for himself for the first time, going shopping and making a space his own and not having anyone hovering nearby making sure that he's doing everything right. 

His stomach feels like it's trying to digest itself by the time the pizza's ready, and he and Louis promptly burn the roofs of their mouths, shoveling it in too soon. They wince but push past the pain, and they put away a full pizza so quickly that Niall's stomach feels uncomfortable in the other direction.

"How long are you going to be in LA?" Louis asks once the pizza's been demolished.

"Don't have a timeline or anything," Niall shrugs. He's waiting for LA to feel like the right decision, but he's not sure he'll ever get to that point. 

"Have to come by sometime when Freddie's up, then. Or swing by the studio, 've got some things working. Think you'd be into it," Louis says, leaning back in his chair. 

"Love to meet the little lad," Niall says, and Louis grins. "Miss the studio, too. Didn't think I would, but I don't like just sitting about, I guess."

"Right? Feels strange, not jumping back into another album. 'S nice, though. Good to get away and miss it," Louis says, and he's content and nonchalant to a degree that Niall wishes he could achieve. 

“Mmm,” he hums, noncommittally. He doesn’t want to give away that he’s at a loss, not when Louis seems so settled and content. It’s not what Niall expected, with the baby and all, but he supposes Louis didn’t have a choice. Babies are terrifyingly permanent, guaranteed life changers, and Niall can’t wrap his head around it, even with Freddie asleep down the hall.

“Might take up surfing,” Niall says, filling the silence as Louis’ eyes start to drift shut. It’s a lie, he can’t imagine himself on a board, making a fool of himself in public like that, but it gets a laugh out of Louis, and he tips back his chair, balancing dangerously on two legs. 

“Should talk to Payno about that, don’t think I can offer any tips. Shit at it, meself, but he caught on pretty quick in Australia. Probably be in LA off and on,” Louis says, grinning and rubbing his belly, still tilted back precariously.

“Too right,” Niall grunts, prodding at his own stomach just as Freddie starts a whining cry from his room. It snaps the illusion of familiar, and Niall misses it immediately, just being able to eat as much junk food as possible and shooting the shit with the lads with no consequences and no responsibility, not really.

Louis lurches forward, chair slamming back to the ground and stands to stretch. 

“He’s a right alarm clock,” Louis says, arms reaching towards the ceiling and pulling his t-shirt up enough that Niall can see a strip of tanned skin. He wonders if LA will have that affect on him, too, or if he’ll just burn and peel, an endless cycle that all the sunscreen in the world can’t break.

“I’ll be off, then, have to start sorting my flat at some point,” Niall says, standing quickly. 

“Could stay and meet him, get some take away later,” Louis groans, still stretching as he wanders out of the kitchen in the direction of Freddie’s room.

“Nah, don’t want to intrude on your lad and dad time,” Niall says quickly, standing and following Louis out of the kitchen. 

“Next time, then. Don’t off and disappear, all right? Freddie’s got to meet his Uncle Nialler,” Louis calls back, voice echoing a bit as he heads down the hall.

“Soon,” Niall replies to Louis’ back, and it’s not until he’s outside in the heat that he remembers he doesn’t have a car. Louis’ street is quiet and shady and can’t be too far from his, he thinks, fumbling his phone out of his pocket. Google Maps says it’s 3.1 miles, walking, and suggests a myriad of routes and public transportation options, but Niall just pulls out his headphones and picks the first set of directions it offers.

-

Walking was probably a mistake, as Niall’s dripping by the time he gets back to his place, the air conditioning hitting him like a wall when he steps inside. He’d stopped for a picture with a fan along the way, gotten a bit turned around more than once, but he probably sweated off the McDonald’s, at least. 

It’s dead quiet inside, and he knows he should jump right in the shower, but all he can do is peel his shirt and sweatpants off before flopping down on the couch, still breathing heavily. He eyes the bag he brought with him from London, big, but not nearly big enough to hold everything he needs. He’s fairly certain he brought a towel, though. It takes him a good five minutes to pry himself up and rummage through it, but there is a towel in its depths, and standing under the cool spray of the shower makes him feel the most awake he’s been since landing in LA.

His chest looks pale and scrawny in the cool fluorescent light of the bathroom. That’ll change soon, probably, if the burn he feels on the back of his neck is any indication. Sunscreen and food, he thinks. Top priorities. And a car and a mattress. All things Niall probably should’ve asked his PA to help sort out before flying here on a whim. At least the shower is equipped with some fancy soap, like something out of a hotel. It’s comforting in its lack of familiarity, reminds him of years of anonymous hotel rooms and smelling different every night. Not at all like the faint, consistent clean linen scent that clung to everything at Bobby’s in Mullingar. 

There’s no washcloth, so he uses his hands, truing to rinse away all the sweat and worry and airplane that’s still clinging to his skin. He turns the water as hot as he can stand towards the end, once the heat form his walk has faded, and he’s pink all over when he gets out, scrubbing his hands through his hair. He wraps a towel around his waist and pads back into the living room, the air leaving goosebumps on his skin. His phone’s buried in the couch cushions, and it’s hot in his hands when he digs it out. 

Bressie’s text is the first thing he sees, a short _‘check your email when you get a chance, chief,_ ’ and Niall shuffles over to his suitcase and rummages around until he unearths his laptop.

His inbox is only mildly overwhelming these days, and he ignores most of it in favor of opening Bressie’s email. 

It’s short and to the point and lets him off the hook, leaves him floundering, and makes him wonder for the hundredth time if coming to LA was a mistake.

_‘just a break, mate’_ and _‘I’ll keep you posted,’_ and _‘go surf or something,’_ pop out at him, everything else blurring together. 

Niall closes his laptop carefully and sets it beside him on the couch. It’s isolating and freeing, and he can feel the curl of dread already settling in the pit of his stomach. The sound of the air con fills his ears like the tinnitus that keeps him up some nights. His stomach is so pale he swears he can see the veins beneath his skin, and goosebumps prickle when he drags his fingers across the soft give of his belly.

It’s easy to curl back up on the couch, to ignore the dampness he’s undoubtedly leaving on the cushions, still in his towel. It’s easy to scrunch his eyes shut and pretend that everything is as it was. That this is a break.

-

It’s not healthy, and Mark’s going to kick his ass on the off chance that he ever goes back to London, but Niall finds himself in front of K Donuts, even though eating fried food after 8 o’clock always gives him heartburn. He can smell the fryer oil from outside, and his stomach growls in response. It’s nearly empty when he walks inside, which is both a relief and not surprising. There’s a girl already at the register clutching a brown paper bag in one hand. Her hair is frizzy from the heat, but she’s got a black hoodie and gym shorts on that mirror Niall’s own. His eyes slide past her towards the case, which is pretty well picked over, and Niall’s contemplating just buying them out when she turns around. 

“Wow,” Taylor says, and for a split second, Niall doesn’t recognize her. It’s strange seeing Taylor Swift in a maybe sketchy bakery at 9 o’clock at night in Malibu. She looks impossibly young, swimming in her too large hoodie, and she has serious bedhead. There are circles under her eyes and she’s nothing like the Taylor who towered over him after the BBMAs, pulled him and Louis into a photobooth, and hugged him like they were long lost best friends. 

“Wow, he echoes, and a smile spreads across his face when she lunges forward and pulls him into a hug, just like she did the last time she saw him. She’s still taller than him, and she feels sharp and bony beneath the soft of her sweatshirt, and Niall lets himself relax into the hug and inhales the clean scent of her fabric softener.

“Didn’t even know you were in LA,” Taylor says as she pulls back, like she’s been keeping tabs on him. Niall can feel a faint flush heating his face because even though they’re friendly, even though people all over the world know his name, it’s still weird to hear that he’s someone Taylor Swift thinks about at all. 

He shrugs and tries to look nonchalant, wills the blush to fade from his cheeks. 

“Figured I’d spend some time across the pond. Got a lot of it on my hands these days,” he says, and she nods seriously in response. 

“How’re you adjusting? It’s weird, right? Like, free time? What’s that?” she says with a laugh, like she can see right through him, even though it’s been months since he saw her last, and the only real connection they have is Harry. 

"Yeah, 'm still just figuring things out as I go," he says, and watches her nod sympathetically as she pushes her white blonde hair back from her forehead. 

“I’m on a studio ban, that’s how bad it is,” she says, leaning against the counter. “Sorry, go ahead, didn’t mean to distract you. The french toast flavor is a solid choice, just so you know.”

“Sounds all right,” he says, and a few minutes later he’s got a matching paper bag with donuts he’ll regret later in hand, and he and Taylor are standing in the parking lot, dusk settling over them like a blanket, dark and heavy.

“I think letting myself go is going to be the theme of this break,” Niall says, cutting through the silence and shaking the bag of donuts. Taylor laughs, clear and deep, and elbows him in the side before she turns to face him.

“That makes two of us, then,” she says, face shadowy and pale in dim lights of the strip mall. “Give me your phone and text me next time you go on a donut run at night.”

It’s—not what Niall expected, but it’s an anchor of sorts, so he slides his phone out of his back pocket and Taylor adds herself to his contacts and hands it back with a smile and a step back in the direction of her car.   
“Next time, then,” Niall says with a wave, and she grins at him one more time before climbing into her car and driving off. 

It’s cooled down enough that he doesn’t break a sweat on the walk back to his condo. He manages to put away both of the donuts on the way, and they sit heavy in his stomach. His phone feels like it’s burning a hole in his pocket as he heads upstairs, but it’s like a tether to Everything Else, now, rather than a reminder that he’s on his own.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here](http://polaroidgirlfriend.tumblr.com) on tumblr.


End file.
